


The Voice of An Angel

by AbsolXGuardian



Series: The Book Lays Open, There are Tales to be Told [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Borderline RPF, Canon typical body horror, Fantasy Self-Injury, Forcible restraint, Gen, Graphic Fantasy Violence, Isolation, Kidnapping, MAG 101 Another Twist, MAG 97 We All Ignore the Pit, Mid Season 3 (TMA), Partial statement fic, The Mechanisms was Jon's band, The Mechanisms!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolXGuardian/pseuds/AbsolXGuardian
Summary: Statement #UNKNOWN-A: Statement of Nikola Orsinov regarding how she obtained the voice-box of Jessica Law.
Series: The Book Lays Open, There are Tales to be Told [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700164
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	The Voice of An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I've had to involve more of the Mechanisms members who don't play characters in TMA to make this fic work. And all of my future ideas involve even more direct involvement of the entire band. Since I don't want to write RPF, I'm making an executive decision right now that the other members of the Mechanisms are OCs that have the same name and play the same character as the real life members of the Mechanisms. Otherwise they're OCs, with their own backgrounds and personalities. I've done my best to track down their non-stage names. The people who play Ivy and Nastya have gone to a lot of effort to obscure their identities. Since they seem like they'd like to be divorced from the Mechanisms and value their privacy, their equivalents will never directly appear in any of my fics. Here's a guide to the band-members mentioned in the fic  
> and who they play.  
> Jessica Law- The Toy Soldier. (her IRL counterpart plays Nikola, hence the entire concept of this fic)  
> Kofi Young- Marius Von Raum.  
> Anastasia Ivanovna- Nastya Rasputina. She's a Russian exchange student, and goes by the nickname Nastya even when she's not playing her character.  
> Maki Yamazaki- Dr. Camilla. She's a few years older than most of the band and graduated before them.

"As far as I can tell," Jon narrated into the tape recorder, glancing at his notes as he went, "there was an earthquake, and then Bucoda wasn’t there, but aside from these two detail—"

There was a sharp electric clap and suddenly Jon was shrouded in darkness, except for the lights of London coming in through the window. He jumped in his seat, and then instinctively glanced up at the burned out bulb to confirm, that yes, it had burned out.

"Oh." Jon sighed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. This again. 

"Alright, let's..." Jon mumbled to himself as he placed the tape recorder on the kitchen table and dragged himself out of his chair.

He made his way to the wall switch for the kitchen. Some bulb or another had burned out at his time in Georgie's house three times, which definitely wasn't normal for just a few months. He didn't know if something in the building was wired wrong, or Georgie was buying the wrong kind of bulbs, or whatever. This was actually the first time it had happened when he was doing something statement related, so it was probably just some mundane annoyance. The tape recorder would probably be stopped once he got back to his work.

He flicked the switch on and off twice, increasingly annoyed that it wasn't working. The entryway bulb was off as well, which meant that, the fusebox got tripped, again.

"Georgie, where’s your fusebo—?" Jon began to call out, before remembering that it was in the hallway leading to Georgie's recording studio.

"Right. Right," Jon mumbled to himself as he walked to the fusebox. "I keep saying it’s not meant to trip whenever one bulb goes, but ' _No, John, I don’t want to bother the landlord._ " As if taking care of the building wasn't the entire job of a landlord.

Jon sighed again, remembering that repeated argument. But his mood improved slightly as he reached the fusebox and removed the cover.

Right as he was reaching for the reset switch, Jon heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks and turned his blood to ice.

"You don't want to do that," a barely human voice said behind Jon.

And his first thought was: _why do you sound like Jessica?_

Jon whipped around as he heard the being approach him. His heart pounded audibly inside his chest as he gasped.

Even with his eyes having adjusted to the darkness, Jon couldn't make out anything more than a roughly humanoid shape standing in-front of him. 

Frozen in fear, the intruder decided to use this chance to monologue "I mean, you can if you really want to, but you’re not going to like it. Sometimes not being able to see something is actually quite a good thing."

And with each word it said, Jon became more and more convinced and more and more worried that this was Jessica's voice. The diction was all off, but it didn't sound like Jessica if she were doing an impression. The voice was theatrical, with a musicality to it, but somehow, deep down, in a way Jon viscerally knew, it was still Jessica's voice at the core.

"Who are you?" Jon shot out, trying to sound accusatory, but his fear still bled through. He hoped, with everything he had, that this wasn't some monster that began as Jessica, like Jude Perry of Micheal Crew had, or- or even him.

"Well, my father called me Nikola, and then I killed him, so I thought I rather deserved to have his second name too. Which makes me Nikola Orsinov," The figure held out its hand, as if to shake, but Jon obviously didn't return the offer. "Pleased to meet you at last."

 _Oh thank God._ It wasn't Jessica. It was Gregor Orsinov's, daughter or something. So this absolutely was an aspect of the Stranger and related to the Circus of the Other.

"You- you killed Gregor Orsinov?" The part of Jon's brain that still went 'ask questions' while the rest of him was panicking.

"Yep!" Nikola replied, with its same typical sadistic cheeriness. "He got really boring, and I’m a monster. I mean, what do you _want_ me to do – not pull him apart? I did use all the bits." She said the last part like it somewhat made up for the patricide.

"I- Y-" There was a question Jon desperately wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to, for fear of the answer. He only managed to force out an adjacent question. "Y-you don't sound Russian?"

"How could I sound anything, silly? I’m plastic." Jon heard the sound of plastic against plastic as Nikola tapped its head. Throughout the conversation, Nikola was constantly moving in an exaggerated and theatrical way as it spoke. This moved, combined with the light coming from the street below, allowed Jon to form a vague image in his head of its shape. She had to be the mannequin from Ms. Ashburt's statement and the ringmaster the real Breekon saw speaking to Breekon & Hope.

"I don’t even have a voice-box," Nikola added, unprompted, "I had to borrow this one."

If Jon's body wasn't already operating on maximum fear, his stomach would have dropped to the floor. Despite himself, he let out a small terrified sound. This was a worse version of what he had dreaded for years. Jessica was dead, her body cut up and used by the Stranger. But even as he feared it, another part of him knew, that if Jessica was involved in the supernatural, this simple death was probably a mercy. 

"Don't turn on the light," Nikola said, almost maternal in its warning.

"Ar-Are you going to kill me?"

"No," Nikola replied, with exaggerated offense. 

Then Nikola tilted its head, as if thinking. "I mean, yes. But not for a good long while yet. I don’t want you to go to waste."

"Then, er...then, then wha..." Jon tried to force out a coherent sentence.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then screwed up all his courage. He balled his fist and looked Nikola directly where its eyes would be. "Then why are you here?"

"After you attacked poor Sarah," While Nikola spoke, Jon forced himself to breath slowly and deeply. "I thought it was about time we had a good old chat. Face to no face! Eye to... well."

"Wha-What do you want?" Jon kept his courage.

"You remember that old piece of skin you were talking about? We’d like it back. We thought that mean old Gertrude had destroyed it. But then you went looking, and now we think maybe she was just very good at hiding."

The absurdity of the request partially broke Jon out of his terror. "I’m sorry, are you asking _me_ to find it for you?"

"That would be lovely. And a lot nicer for you than our other ideas."

"I- What is so important about some ancient bit of taxidermy?" The fear quickly came rushing back, but Jon was still able to hold onto a bit of his annoyance.

"I want to wear it when I dance the world new."

"But.." Jon still had his instinct to ask questions, even as he didn't know what they should be. "But wh-"

He didn't even get to try. Faster and harder than plastic should be, Nikola jabbed Jon in the stomach, forcing him to buckle over with a grunt and a gasp.

"Question time is over, little Archivist," Nikola said as Jon clutched his abdomen in pain. "Find the skin for us. You have until... well, until I change my mind."

Nikola pushed downward on his exposed back, forcing Jon to the ground. He let out pain filled breaths in lieu of screaming.

The mannequin crouched down to Jon's level "Shhh... Save your energy for the dance," it added, before walking out of his apartment.

* * *

  
_The last Mechanisms show was right before Christmas break in Jon's third year. They played a collection of various miscellaneous songs to a pub filled with the few dedicated fans who lived in or near Oxford, the friends and partners of the members, and some very confused people who'd just seen flyers. No one had any idea this would be their final show._

_After the show, the Mechanisms packed up their instruments and returned to their dorms. Kofi and Jessica lived in buildings next to each-other, so they walked home together. That was when Jessica went missing. Kofi saw it. Kofi saw something. But what he saw is a story for another day._

_He called the police. They believed that Jessica had been taken, but they didn't believe anything Kofi had said. Why would they? It had to just be trauma. The police who took the statement didn't even write it down._

_Her parents never held a funeral, they still had hope. By the time Jessica was declared dead two years ago, it was too late and didn't feel right._

_Jessica's band-mates, no, her friends had their breaks. They all grieved in their own ways. They returned to their homes and families, except for Jon and Nastya, who never went home on breaks._

_The Mechanisms didn't have any practices or events planned for after break. Ever since Maki graduated, the role of bandleader and organizer just naturally fell onto Jon. But ever time he thought of scheduling or contacting his fellow band-mates, it was just too much, and he couldn't do it. No one emailed Jon about wanting to start again. Files containing half-written songs were left unopened on computers. Costumes sat in the backs of closets._

_The Mechanisms never interacted as a group all together again, but except for Jon, they stayed in touch. Jordan facilitated most of this communication. Jon just could never bring himself to respond to any of the emails Jordan sent, no matter how guilty he felt. So one day, they just stopping coming._

* * *

"We got him, Miss Orsinov," Breekon or Hope intoned, as both beings pushed Jon down to his knees on the floor, each one of them holding one of his arms behind him.

"Well surely we should let him see what's happening," Nikola replied, as it whipped the sack that had been covering Jon's face off.

Lit by the single bare bulb of the concrete room they were in, Jon finally got a good look at Nikola. It was exactly how Ms. Asburt described it in her statement. A white, fully articulated manikin with a completely featureless face wearing the costume of a ringmaster. Around them, only just outside of the bulb's range were figures Jon really hoped were wax works.

Jon had run out of fear after he'd first regained consciousness in the back of Breekon & Hope's van. So all he had left to feel was anger. Not even anger about being kidnapped or Nikola giving him almost no time to track down the skin, but about whatever had happened to Jessica.

"Now there you are Archivist," Nikola said. Now that Jon could clearly see how it moved, he realized it looked more like stop motion of someone working with one of those pose-able wooden artist dolls, who had little concern with how the human body really moved. "I really was disappointed when you failed to find the skin- actually no. I'm lying. You didn't run out of time, I just realized _you'd_ make for a much better mantle than some dusty old taxidermy. So how about we begin." Nikola clapped its hands together.

" _How about you tell me what happened to Jessica_ ," Jon replied, forcing himself to sound fearless and determined. He stared up at Nikola, trying to imagine that he was pulling something out of Nikola, the way a child likes to see if they have telekinetic powers. He had no idea if that kind of visualization would even help, but this was something further from human that he'd ever tried Compelling before, and he needed this to work.

"Jessica?" Nikola replied. With that, it felt like some kind of connection between it and Jon that had begun to form was suddenly shattered. "We don't have anyone here who uses the name Jessica." Nikola turned around, and called in a sing-song voice. "Oh Sarah, come on out. Do any of your people use a Jessica?"

With a start, Jon realized that what he thought was one of the wax works actually just a being who appeared to be a human leaning against one. When she came into the ring of light, Jon recognized her as Sarah Baldwin, or at least the entity wearing her skin over a body of sawdust that Daisy and he had encountered at The Trophy Room.

"You know who I'm talking about!" Jon shot back, straining against Breekon & Hope's grip. "Jessica Law! The woman you stole your voice from!"

" _Oh_ , you mean the Toy Soldier. I wondered what her human name was. I've been using Megan. Sarah," Nikola called to Sarah like she was its secretary. "Make a note of that. My skin's name was Jessica Law." Sarah nodded in response.

 _Megan._..that was the woman Mr. Skinner met at the Circus' compound in Gwydir Forest. Jon felt sick as he readjusted his mental image of this Megan to be Jessica, looking slightly off as her skin was stretched over a new frame.

"Now," Nikola turned back to Jon, "it's my turn to ask a question. Why to you care about this woman who we took almost a decade ago? She wasn't even marked by the Ceaseless Watcher, or any other Entity."

Once more his anger bubbled over as Jon struggled against the hands of Breekon & Hope. "She was my friend you bastard! This has nothing to do with the Beholding or the Institute! She was my friend and you killed her!"

"Wait a minute," Nikola snapped her fingers, the best she could with plastic fingers, " _That's_ where I know you from, Archivist. You're Jonny D'Ville. I can't believe it! Look at you. You've become so boring, running around and asking questions in your little glasses and vest. You Mechanisms, you really were quite impressive, especially for humans. You know, Jonny D'Ville could have been a member of Grifter's Bone and fit right in."

"He was a _character_. Jonny D'Ville wasn't me, I was just playing him."

"Aren't we all playing characters, Archivist?"

Jon took a deep breath. He didn't want to argue with- with this _thing_. If he was the Archivist, the least he could do was get some answers.

" _Tell me what you did to Jessica._ "

"Oh now you're trying to get a statement from me. Do you know how rude-"

_**"You're going to tell me."** _

"Fine. If that's how you're going be, I'll tell you."

* * *

_A few years after I took over the Circus of the Other from my dear departed father, I began getting an urge to return to the homeland of Joseph Grimaldi- your country. Maybe its because I still have parts of him inside me, or maybe it was the Stranger directing me. Either way, Russia had become boring. Do you have any idea how empty it is?_

_So we went west. It wasn't a quick journey, it wasn't supposed to be. We fed along the way and rested in places for a while. The journey was just as important as the destination. But we kept moving. I believe during this time, such a thing would have been very challenging for a regular circus. But it wasn't like something as petty as your Iron Curtain could actually stop us._

_As we went, we collected a lot of new skins. We had to travel light, so we didn't create any more skinwalkers, but I wanted to make sure that nobody looked like a foreigner, which meant new accents every country or so. And of course, we always make sure to use all of our prey, so I ended up with quite the wardrobe. I suppose we could have looked like foreigners, but where's the showmanship of taking advantage of the fear you humans have when it's one of your own whose just a little bit different? That's far too easy._

_But once we crossed the channel, I knew we were here to stay. This is where the Unknowing would happen. So we got to work. But the Dancer needs a proper voice, don't you think? Something you can preform with. I'd been settling for mediocre voices during the journey, but now we didn't have to travel light. So I couldn't just settle for whatever got dragged in, even if I got first choice._

_We'd been in your country for less than a year when I got a call from one of our skinwalkers. Oh yes, we can use phones. Even the new touch screen ones, as long as you're wearing your skin. He'd kept the job his skin had, a publican in Oxford. He was a bit like the Not-Them, very skilled in mimicry. We may share patrons, but I don't control any doppelgangers. So we have to make do with skinwalkers. He was supposed to keep an eye out for avatars. We were new to this country, and its important to know who the powerhouses are, especially if you intend to stay. But he also knew I was looking for a new voice._

_He said that there was this band that was preforming at his pub that night- your Mechanisms. They were all university students. The band was pretty good, but not so famous they'd be missed terribly. Perfect for us._

_So the--well I suppose we don't have a name for it. Its the monster we use to capture our prey. It gets the internal organs it likes, we get the voices and the skin for our walkers. I suppose I'll call it the Lure._

_The Lure and I went to Oxford. I was, of course, clothed in skin. I told the Lure to wait for me. It could grab anyone who came by. That's what it's used to doing. But once I indicated its prey, then it could take them._

_Before I left, Sarah, well they weren't Sarah then, tried to do some research into The Mechanisms, to figure out which of you might be the least missed. Of course, all they could find were your really creative stories. Immortal space pirates? Very impressive. Some of the newer skinchangers thought it was real. I listened to your albums, but I still wasn't sure who I'd take. I had a few ideas, but I still needed to see you live. You might feel better to know that I dismissed you right away. It was between Raphaella, DrumBot Brian, and the Toy Soldier._

_Although once I saw you in person, I quickly settled on the Toy Soldier._

_It was quite fitting, me choosing Jessica. The story you wrote for the Toy Soldier- well it fit me very well. There was this almost successful Unknowing centuries ago based around clockwork automata. I was fairly young when that happened, so I've always had a soft spot for them- since its my duty to succeed where they failed. And well, you remember this, it stole its voice just like mine. From a beautiful human signer no less._

_Your stories may not have had any occult significance, until now had nothing to do with the Entities, but I am still, and have always been an artiste. So I followed your story. A mannequin stole her new voice from a human playing an automaton who stole its voice from a human signer. The irony is almost beautiful._

_I wasn't involved in Jessica's capture. That's not my department. But I communicated to The Lure- oh this time I did use supernatural means. It can't use a phone- who my chosen prey was. I followed her to make sure it was on the right street, oh it wasn't happy having figure out how to take someone specific, but it managed. We took her to our old compound in Gwydir Forest- don't try to look for it. It's nothing but ashes now. There she was properly prepared. The Lure and the Choir were happy to take her entails. Her voice was now mine, and we put her skin in storage for when I need to look human. We always use all the bits._

_Satisfied?_

* * *

  
As Jon broke out of the Compel, he realized that there were the beginnings of tears around his eyes. Nikola must have kept the last part in specifically to torment him, gain some advantage from the story. The transferred emotions weren't as strong from a spoken statement as when he read them, but Jon still saw vividly what was described- how Jessica would have been prepared by these butchers.

That anger filled him so much, that for one last push he was able to stand up for a few seconds before Breekon & Hope pushed him back down.

"Tsk," If Nikola had facial features, it would likely be smiling a smug smile. "I give you my 'statement' and this is how you repay me? By trying to attack me? How rude. We'll have to make sure you're properly secured."

"One of you," Nikola ordered Breekon & Hope, "go get that chair over there." It gestured to the ring of waxworks surrounding them.

Breekon or Hope went to fetch the chair, while the remaining being used his other hand to grab Jon's momentarily free wrist.

"Sarah," Nikola turned behind it, "you do have the rope I asked for?"

"Are you sure we _have_ to use rope?" Sarah whined, sounding more like a young child than a terrifying monster.

"We've been over this," Nikola made the noise of sighing, but that was it. "If we pin him, that will mean more holes to stitch up in the mantle. This isn't a regular  
peeling job. It has to be perfect."

The member of Breekon & Hope that had gone over to fetch a chair had found one. It dumped the wax work that had previously occupied the chair to the ground, where it laid awkwardly, as its legs were in a permanent 'sitting in chair' position.

He brought the chair over and the same time the being holding Jon's wists jerked him into a standing position, and walked him towards the chair. Without speaking, Breekon and & Hope coordinated pushing Jon down into the chair and holding his wists in place on the chair's arms.

"Jolly good show boys," Nikola clapped a few times. "Sarah, your turn. And please don't tell me you bought plastic ties. They leave such ugly bruising."

"I followed your orders," Sarah replied, annoyed, as she pulled out four strips of rope. Breekon & Hope used them to bind Jon's wists to the arms of the chair, and then his legs to the chair's legs. The knots were tight and the rope thick. Jon couldn't even wiggle his limbs inside them.

"There we go, perfect."

"What- what is this mantle you keep talking about?" Jon was too exhausted now to put any Compel into his question. "How am I supposed to stand in for centuries old taxidermy?"

"My, you do ask too many questions," Nikola replied.

"How about you tell me anyway, if you're so convinced you're gonna kill me!" Jon didn't know if his desire for more information was something that came from him, or something that came from the Eye's influence.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand how this works, Archivist."

"Well then why don't you tell me!" Why was everyone like this? Elias wouldn't tell him what was happening to help his 'growth'. And now this insane evil circus won't even give him the mercy of giving a proper evil monologue when they're so convinced he's going to die at their hands (Jon wouldn't let himself consider how likely such a possibility was). He'd used up his powers and all he got was the news that the reason his friend died and he lost the rest of his friends was because of the same crap that would probably kill him one day, very soon.

"It seems like he's just going to keep talking," Nikola stage whispered Sarah. "You know what to do."

Sarah nodded and took her jacket off, revealing a tank-top underneath.

What Jon saw next certainly did the job of shutting him up. He watched, in mesmerized horror, as Sarah took a knife from her belt, and sheared cut off the skin of her arm. This must have been just like what Melanie saw at the old hospital. Sarah slowly took the knife from her shoulder to her wrist, peeling off her skin in one long strip, like a orange peel. No blood oozed from the wound, instead bits of sawdust spilled out.

Sarah gave the strip of skin a good shake to get all the sawdust off. She approached Jon, leaving a trail of sawdust and other detritus as she walked. Once she was close to him, she began to fold the skin in half width-wise. Jon found himself focusing on the exposed section of her arm, to keep from making the logical leap regarding what Sarah intended to do.

With so much sawdust having fallen out, Jon saw that what would have been bone was instead a wooden stick. He caught glimpses of a wire-frame that held up the skin, with the gap between the skin and "bone" filled with sawdust and a few cloves.

The attention Jon was paying to figuring out what a skinwalker looked like under their stolen skin left him completely unprepared when Sarah shoved her skin into his mouth. It successfully gagged him, as Sarah tied a knot to secure the skin gag behind his head.

Sarah stepped back, and smiled as if she was admiring her handiwork.

"Well now that we got you all situated-" Nikola began.

"Uh, Miss Orsinov?" Breekon or Hope asked.

"What is it?" Nikola snapped at them.

"The Archivist's backpack, I thought you might want it."

"What? Oh, fine, just hand it here."

Jon tried to crane his neck, but he couldn't tell where the member of Breekon & Hope who had spoken up went, other than that it was in the direction they brought him into the room through. Very shortly, he returned, carrying Jon's backpack.

"Well look through it," Nikola barked, "Make sure he doesn't have a Leitner or something."

"Uhh," the entity began rooting through Jon's backpack, knocking most of its contents on the floor. "Well it's mostly human things. There's a laptop, a notebook, and a folder full of papers. That might be Archivist's stuff. Oh this isn't good..it's a lighter with a web design," The entity held the lighter up, and shook it a few times before continuing. "No seems like a regular lighter. And a tape recorder."

"Oh yes, one of those famous Magnus Institute tape recorders. Hand it over," Nikola held out her hand, and Breekon or Hope tossed the tape recorder to it, and it caught it skillfully. Jon was surprised that right after the being handed over the tape recorder, he proceeded to pack up Jon's backpack once more. Perhaps it was some kind of courier instinct.

"Let's see," Nikola examined the tape recorder. "I wonder if it works...well here's the on button."

Nikola pressed the on button and with a click, the recorder began to run

"Oh, it does work!" Nikola turned to Jon, "What have you been recording? Anything spooky?"

* * *

_"Are you alright?" Georgie asked, looking at Jon with concern. "You look like you’re about to keel over."_

_Jon didn't feel great. He just had to Compel a statement and record it. Not to mention how it was a statement he had a personal stake it. Oh and there was how little sleep he was running on in the first place._

_"Uh, no, I- I just…" Jon rubbed the back of his neck. "Ther-There’s been a lot of statements, in not a lot of time. I’m… I’m exhausted. I kind of wish I knew, uh, knew even_ one _person who genuinely wasn’t involved." First it turned out that Basira was a cop specialized in dealing with the supernatural, then he found out_ _that Jordan was involved in the Jane Prentiss case, and now it turns out Georgie had an encounter with an undead corpse that stole her fear before he'd even met her_!

_"Maybe that’s why you thought of me?"_

_"Hm?" Jon was embarrassed to admit that he was only half listening to what Georgie said, too absorbed spiraling about how every time one of his university friends found their way back into his life, they'd had their own brush with the supernatural_.

_"I mean, it’s been years, and there must be other old friends you lost touch with. Maybe you did know?"_

_"Yeah, maybe. I, uh…" Jon gave a non-committal answer. He still hadn't told Georgie about when Jordan came to give a statement, and really didn't want to admit that he never sent an email to Jordan afterwards._

_Jon considered contacting Jordan after he went on the run, but he didn't want to have to talk about why he hadn't sent a single email to Jordan since he'd come into give a statement. There was also the possibility that Elias would give Jordan's name to the police as a known associate. Jon decided he'd rather stay with his semi-amicably departed ex-girlfriend then face that embarrassment. As he dialed Georgie's number on his phone, he did make the decision that if Georgie didn't agree or had changed her number, then he'd go to Jordan to help._

_But he hadn't needed to._

* * *

  
_"Look, you’re worried. I get it," Even though it was an argument, Jon could tell that Georgie was only thinking about what she thought was best for him. But he couldn't let her put herself in danger like that. "But if you really think you’re turning into something_...inhuman, _you need people around you. You need anchors."_

_"All my 'anchors' are just as deep in this as me," he shot back. That was less of a legitimate rebuttal and more of Jon desperately trying to find a reason to shoot down Georgie's suggestion with._

_"Well, you still need them," Georgie replied with a finality that broke Jon's resolve._

* * *

Jon spent the indeterminable amount of time he was kidnapped by the Circus of the Other drifting in and out of almost sleep. His brain moved between his inner monologue, to unbidden memories, and to dreams effortlessly. The bulb that lit the room never turned off. His muscles cramped from being stuck in the same position, and the boredom eventually overtook the last remnants of exhausted fear or anger. His lips grew sore from always having the skin-gag stuffed in his mouth. Every now and then, a silent skinwalker would arrive with a meal and some water. Each meal was some premade microwaved fare, poorly microwaved specifically. The skinwalker would feed him, leaving Jon no room to ask questions.

Other times skinwalkers would come to wash and moisture him. That was the weirdest part. Still he remained gagged. The skinwalkers somehow managed to figure out a system that allowed them to eventually moisture the majority of his body without ever fully taking all of his clothes off or removing more than one restraint. The whole kidnapping situation prevented the violation involved of this aspect of his captivity to ever register.

Most of the time, the memories that Jon's brain would entertain itself with were traumatic. Either his own trauma, or replays of the vivid mental images he had of statements. Those memories would blend into dreams that were the most traumatic parts of certain statements on loops. Sometimes his brain would conspire and create cruel montages of Sasha- but in his memories, it could only ever be the face of Not-Sasha.

And sometimes, they were just memories recontextualized in a new light, such as right after Georgie finished giving her statement or their argument before he left her flat- the last conversation they had. Jon thought that to contact his only old friends untouched by the supernatural would be to go through Jordan. But even if he had drummed up the courage to go through Jordan, there would always be the death of Jessica hanging over them.

Because of Nikola Orsinov. The reason why Jon didn't have any friends when he went to work at the Institute was because of the actions of one such monster. Perhaps things would have gone differently. Maybe Elias never would have chosen him to be Archivist, or maybe he would have handled the investigation into Gertrude's murder better if he could talk to someone who wasn't a suspect.

At first Jon made the decision that if- no _when_ \- he escaped he would gather together all of the Mechanisms he could and tell them the truth. They are deserved to know what happened to Jessica.

Except, there might not be an inherent value to truth. This was where Jon's relentless pursuit for knowledge had gotten him. Knowing what had happened wouldn't bring Jessica back, it would simply open old wounds and give them something brand new to worry about. He'd have to tell them that they'd only have a few months at most before the world was destroyed. He knew them. They would never just accept that fact and stand on the sidelines like Georgie had. They'd try to help. Jon considered the merits of telling and not telling them. He didn't come to a conclusion, but he did decide that, one way or another, he would only tell them after the Uknowning had failed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the plan is that the next fic I write in this series is to be Jon discovering Kofi's statement. The set for their last performance is Tales to Be Told II (minus Drop Dead because Crypt of the NecroDancer wasn't released yet). This alternate version of The Mechanisms are such madlads that they produced the same discography in three years and while being in college as their counterparts.
> 
> The reason why it pronouns are used for Nikola is because that's what Jon uses for her, and this is his POV. And I don't think we've ever gotten a definite answer either way, the fandom just uses she/her.
> 
> A lot of this fic also just ended up me figuring out the logistics of a lot of things the podcast hand-waved, especially Jon's kidnapping. Once Michael/Helen sets him free, he grabs his backpack (the tape recorder is of course fine on its own) and takes it with him. The reason Breekon & Hope couldn't sense if the lighter was a Web artifact is because that if it is, its powers are very hidden and subtle.


End file.
